


{ 5 degrees of losing you }

by moreissuesthanv0gue



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Complete, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gallavich, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Protective Mickey Milkovich, caring!mickey, hurt!Ian, kidnapped!ian, worried!mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3230279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreissuesthanv0gue/pseuds/moreissuesthanv0gue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What is it about no means no that the fucker didn't understand?"</p><p>{or the one where Ian was kidnapped and Mickey wants to make him feel alright}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. P R O L O G U E

**Author's Note:**

> Im sorry the summary is so shit i thought of it in I kid you not, literally less than one minute. Also, if the series title doesn't make sense to you yet, I feel ya. It'll make more sense as the series progresses. As for the chapter title, it comes from the song "Cherry Wine" by Hozier so you should definitely go check that song out because its fuCKING FANTASTIC

   As nostalgic as it was, Mickey found himself thinking about Ian, _again_. Sitting on his window seat, leaning against the glass, he relived the events from 25 days ago. Just moments before Ian stormed out of the Milkovich household, they’d been fighting. Mickey was throwing punches, face bright red with anger, while Ian just stood there, terrified, taking every single punch or harsh word because he _just couldn’t bring himself to hurt the dark haired angel in front of him._ Afterwards, he just walked out. Mickey couldn’t say he blamed him. Even so, he would give anything to be able to rewind time, and tell himself to listen, just fucking listen to Ian’s soft pleads, no matter how angry he was because _he was taking it all for granted._

The window seat was _their_ spot. Ian and Mickey spent countless hours on that seat, nursing beers in the summer and hot chocolates in the winter. When Ian made his first (and only) cut, sitting on the window seat with blood streaming from his arm and tears running down his face, Mickey was there, with soft eyes and gentle hands, holding the younger boy while he sobbed. When Terry made his first reappearance at the Milkovich house, Mickey ran to Ian, with frenzied eyes and trembling hands, Ian pulled him onto his lap, and petted the boy’s dark hair. Now, Mickey was grasping at any remnants of Ian, whether it be the cologne that Ian wore or just the picture of him on Mickeys nightstand. It scared Mickey how empty he felt without Ian. He’d been missing for 25 days, but honestly, it felt more like 25 years.

   Later that evening, Mickey joined Mandy at the kitchen, who was preparing dinner. Upon his approach, Mandy offered a weak smile as she handed him a bowl. Mickey attempted a smile back (which, in all honestly, probably resembled a grimace) and walked over to the dining room, sitting down with a heaving sigh. Mandy sat down next to him in stoney silence because _dinner was always Ian’s job_. Despite being born in the ghetto, Ian could cook anything, from pork chops to poutine. Mandy would always groan at the prospect of Ian buying yet another cookbook, but secretly didn’t mind at all. Mickey would whisper stories into Ian’s ear, late at night, about a chef who made it out of the south side, along with his thug boyfriend who’d fuck you up if you dared to even look at the chef. When Ian was there, dinner was a loud, joyous affair. Now, nothing was said except for the occasional “pass the milk, asshole”.

   After dinner, Mickey was about to retreat into the emptiness of his bedroom, before hearing the phone ring. Mickey and Mandy stood frozen, staring at each other, before Mandy hoarsely whispered “d’you think…?” “only one way to find out” Mickey shakily replied, picking up the phone. “Hello, is this Mickey Milkovich?” said the voice on the other end. “Y-yea..it is” “Did you happen to file a missing persons report?” Mickey collapses onto the couch, tears of relief spilling out of his eyes. “Yeah…I did. Is he ok?” The man on the other end chuckled, and said “He’ll be physically fine..he was kidnapped by one of the richest men in Chicago. he is currently staying at South Shore hospital, you may come and see him”. At this, Mickey dropped the phone, sobbing, because _Ian would most likely be emotionally damaged, but he’d be back with Mickey and thats all that fucking mattered._

   Mickey and Mandy met up with the rest of the Gallaghers, as well as Kev and Vee, at the hospital. Debbie immediately moved over, making room for Mandy on the cold hospital seat she was sitting on. Smiling gently, Mandy walked over to Debbie and ruffled the younger girl’s hair with tears in her eyes. Meanwhile, Mickey found a seat next to Fiona, who reached for his hand, interlacing their fingers together. Without even realizing, the 9 of them had become one solitary, family unit.

   A couple minutes later, a nurse came in to speak to them, ignoring Mickey’s mutters about _“fucking finally”_ , making Lip snort. “Is everyone in this room a family member or close friend of Ian Gallagher?” she asked, looking disdainfully at the array of thugs and emotional children presented to her. When “yes” was the universal answer, she simply sighed and continued on with her speech. “Mr Gallagher was kidnapped by a man named John Emanuel, who, as you may know, is the mayor of the city of Chicago. Judging by our physical tests, we have concluded that Mr. Emanuel had been physically abusing Ian for reasons that are currently unknown.” Mickey’s grip on Fiona’s hand tightens, as he feels her tears drip onto his fingers. “However, he is in relatively good physical condition, with only a couple broken ribs, along with a variety of miscellaneous bruises and cuts scattered throughout his body. After running some more thorough tests, we have also come to the conclusion that Mr Ian Gallagher was also being sexually attacked multiple times over the course of the month he stayed with Mr. Emanuel.” An audible gasp ran through the room. Mickey was the first to speak up. “When..when can i go see him?” “He will begin accepting visitors in approximately 10 minutes.” The nurse said as she promptly walked out of the room.

   Everyone dealt with it differently. Kev went outside for a smoke break. Mandy began to absentmindedly stroke Debbie’s hair. Lip was talking quietly with Carl. As for Mickey, he sat there grasping Fiona’s hand, desperately trying to hold back tears while Fiona broke down beside him.

   “So…where’s he staying?” Mickey tentatively asked, breaking everyone out of their smaller groups. Fiona and Lip looked appalled. “Obviously, he’s staying with you..” they said, eyeing Mickey suspiciously. Upon seeing the confused look on Mickey’s face, Lip said “Look man, I know that we haven’t exactly gotten along in the past, but the happiest I’ve ever seen Ian is when he’s with you. So even though I think leaving my mentally ill younger brother in the hands of a Milkovich is relatively dangerous, I think its what Ian’ll want”. Mickey looked at Lip for a second, before smiling and muttering a “thanks”, blushing as red as a tomato.

   “Mickey Milkovich?” The nurse said as she popped her head out of Ian’s room. Standing on shaky legs, Mickey proceeded. As soon as Mickey’s eyes laid sight on Ian, his knees began to buckle and his eyes began to water. He was staring at a man that resembled Ian, but not quite. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked black, and his milky white skin was stained purple and black. Ian quickly averted his eyes, and Mickey wanted to slap himself for being so stupid. He could practically hear Mandy’s voice telling Mickey to “go to him, idiot”. So he did. In 2 long strides he was across the room grabbing Ian by the back of the neck. They simply held each other for a while, tears leaking out of both their closed eyes. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt more like hours. Finally, Ian opened his eyes to look at Mickey. “Mick…I swear.” “You swear what, Ian?” The redhead bites his lip and looks down at the sheets. Using his index finer, Mickey plus Ian’s chin up so that its level with his own. “What is it, babe?” Mickey said, accidentally letting out a term of endearment. Ian smiles a little at that, and says “Mick…I never wanted it. I told him that I didn’t want it, that I had a boyfriend back hom-“ “Ian Gallagher. Never do I want to hear you saying that again. I know that you didnt want anything to do with that man. I don’t blame you, and I’m not mad. You’re coming home with me, and I’ll never let you out of my sight again. Okay?” Mickey kisses Ian, which is honestly pretty gross considering they were both a mess of snot and tears at this point.

   When the papers were signed, Ian gave each of his siblings one last hug, a wave to Kev and Vee, and slipped his hand into Mickeys. Along with Mandy, the 3 of them walked to the beat up Milkovich car. Once they got home, Ian gave Mandy one last hug before heading upstairs behind Mickey. They stripped down to their boxers and crawled into bed. Mickey tried as hard as possible not to touch Ian, which the younger boy was thankful for. “Sorry” he mumbled. “I wish I could let you hold me, it’s ju-“ “It’s alright, firecrotch. Go to bed. I ain’t leaving you, I’ll deal with all this shit. I promise.” Ian smiled at Mickey before turning around and letting out a deep sigh. Just as he was on the brink of sleep, he heard the Ian speak again. “Mick?” “mhmm?” “Im sorry about the fight.” “me too.” “do you remember what it was about?” “no clue. You?” “no idea.” They turned their heads to look at each other and let out an airy laugh before falling asleep.


	2. T A X I S

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " Even when I yell and punch things, I’m still so in love with you."

   A week later, it was the Alibi’s 3 year anniversary. When Mickey first heard about the event, he was planning to go. Hell, there’d be free drinks, and it might’ve helped to take his mind off of Ian. However, now that he had the ginger boy back, he reluctantly decided to stay at home. Upon hearing the disappointment in Mickey’s voice, Ian insisted he was fine - because that was just Ian. He could literally have blood seeping out of his internal organs, and he’ll be worried about that cut on top of your eyebrow, or that bruise on your arm. Ian’s selflessness was one of the things that Mickey loved so much, and secretly envied. But, of course, with Ian’s soft, gentle features came more harsh, defined ones. The kid was stubborn as a mule.

   “honestly, Mick. I’m ok. I can come with you”. Ian said, that lazy grin draped onto his face. “bullshit, babe.” Mickey replied, his words not stinging the way they sounded they would. “You haven’t let me hold you at night this whole week.” Although he said it gently, Ian blushed, looking down at the ground. Mickey sighed. “Im sorry.” he said, walking over to Ian, placing his hands on the taller boys neck. “That was an asshole move. I love free drinks, but I love your stupid ass more. We don’t have to go if you’re not feeling up to it, I wouldn’t mind. Just tell me the truth, dickbreath.” Ian smiled, peering up at Mickey through his eyelashes. “I-I want to go, Mick. Everyones treating me as if I need to be quarantined or some shit. I just..I just want everything to go back to normal. I can go, Mick, i’ll be fine. Really.”

   So they went, and maybe, just maybe Ian was right. He laughed and talked just like the way it was before. Ian was still charming everyone in that damn bar. Vee would mix extra shots of vodka into his drinks, shooting him a wink while passing it to him from the other side of the bar table. Kev would challenge him to a friendly game of pool, even though Ian won every time. Watching his boyfriend lovingly from one of the tables in the back, Mickey smiled to himself before tipping back his beer. _“Maybe we’ll be fine, maybe he was right.”_

   But of course, no Milkovich kid was ever that lucky. When the party was beginning to thin out, Mickey walked over to Ian and gently pulled him close, inhaling his scent, placing a kiss on his lips. He felt Ian smile into the kiss, before they pulled apart, both boys grinning at each other like they were 12. “Ready to go, Firecrotch?” Mickey whispered, extending a hand for Ian to hold. “For sure”. As they made their way out of the bar, dodging pools of vomit and sketchy men offering them drinks, Mickey pulled out his cell to call for a taxi. There was no way in hell he was letting Ian walk outside in the dark, even if Mickey was there to protect him. He wasn’t taking any damn chances. At the sight of Mickey pulling his cell phone out from his pocket, Ian paled. “Wha-what’re you doing?” he stammered, slowly backing away. Mickey, oblivious to the fear in Ian’s voice, said “calling for a taxi, man. Ain’t no way in hell we’re walking back, all the pedos come out at night.” Ian’s breathing hitched, and his voice moved up at least 2 octaves. “Umm..thats ok, I think I’ll walk.” Mickey gave Ian a peculiar look. “Really? you’re gonna fight me on this one? I’ll pay for it, whats the big deal?”. Ian closed his eyes, and visibly gulped. “Mick..can..can i talk to you? Y’know, _before_ you call for a t-taxi?” Mickey softened as he saw tears beginning to make their way out of Ian’s eyes. “Sure thing, babe. Alibi bathroom?” Ian silently nodded as Mickey took the younger boys hand, and led the both of them to the bathroom at the back of the bar.

    “Whats wrong?” Mickey asked in that tone reserved for Ian, pulling the boy into his chest. Ian’s voice was so quiet that you wouldn’t have been able to hear it, if you weren’t paying close enough attention. But Mickey could pick out even Ian’s faintest whisper from a large crowd of people. Everyone else was just white noise compared to Ian. “That night…the night that i left. I was just gonna go back to Fiona’s for the night. But on my way, a taxi pulled onto the curb..there was a guy inside, and i couldn’t really see him clearly, but he had dark hair and blue eyes so I thought it was you. And so i got into his car. I..” By now, Ian’s voice was coming out harsh and raspy, as he sobbed deeper into Mickeys chest. “Okay, than what happened?” Mickey quietly whispered, flipping off Kev, who had barged in to clean the bathrooms. “I..I couldn’t breathe, Mick. i literally thought I was going to die. I knew it wasn’t you, so I asked the guy if I could just get out…but he wouldn’t let me. He put..this..this thing over my mouth, felt sort of silky, like a tie.” “he used a fucking gag on you.” Mickey whispered, half to himself, as he sat down, taking Ian onto his lap. “Yeah…I guess thats what it was. And…I thought I was going to die in the backseat of his car, I thought I’d never get to apologize for whatever i’d done…so…I guess I’m just nervous..that…if i get into a taxi...everything'll start again.”

   Tears were steadily streaming down both boys’ faces, as Mickey pushed Ian off gently to get up, before reaching out a hand to help Ian up. “Ian, I just want you to know that I am 100% not angry. Even when I yell and punch things, I’m still so in love with you. But we need to call a taxi, babe. It’s too dangerous to be walking. And nothing will happen to you, I promise.” Ian nodded. “Will you hold my hand the whole way home?” Mickey chuckled slightly, already going to intertwine their fingers. “Of course. Ready to go home?” Ian nodded again, sniffling. He’d be okay, as long as he had Mickey with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully the title is starting to make sense :)))) kudos & comments always appreciated


	3. C O N F I N E D S P A C E S

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian gets professional help, and he's crazy if he thinks Mickey won't be there every single step of the way.

   “Who the _fuck_ wakes up before 7:00 am on the fucking south side?” Mickey grumbled, as he rolled out of bed, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. He threw on a pair of Ian’s sweatpants, and _fuck the army was dangerous but Mickey was seriously considering joining just to get a pair of those sweats._ “What the hell do you want?” he snapped, unlocking the door, and immediately regretting it. Because in front of him stood Fiona Gallagher, her tiny 5’4 frame shivering like a leaf in the wind. “Hey Fiona…sorry, it’s just..really fucking early. Ian’s not awake yet”. And Fiona, with her arms crossed and cheeks rosy, smiled and said “I’m here to talk to _you._ Got a minute?” Mickey stepped back, allowing Fiona into the kitchen. “Whats up?” he asked, handing her a cup of coffee. “You better fucking like it black, we ain’t got no cream in this shithole.” Fiona chuckled, wrapping her hands around the coffee mug. “Mickey…have you considered sending Ian to therapy? Mickey sighed as he sat next to her. “To be honest, yeah, I have. Did you I just…I’m not sure if Ian would want to”. Fiona offered a sympathetic smile. “Hey, that kid’s got Monica injected in his bloodstream, they’re so alike its almost scary. Last time Monica was around, she told us _“oh I’m fine, I’m all fixed”_. 3 hours later she almost died on our kitchen floor. Ian’s the same, in that sense. He’d never admit that he needs help, Mickey. Never.”

   So 2 hours later, with some serious bribing on Fiona’s part, Ian reluctantly agreed to go to one therapy session “just to try it out”. He may or may not have been awarded with a congratulatory cuddle from our favourite dark-haired, blue-eyed thug that night.

   “You alright? If you’re gonna pass out or some shit, I can get Lip to turn this car around and head home.” Ian smiled weakly, saying “no I’m alright, just…I haven’t actually _talked_ to anyone about what happened..” as he averted his gaze and looked out the window. Mickey said nothing, but reached for Ian’s hand and squeezed it lightly.

   “Alright Ian, I’m heading home. I’ve got a date with Amanda later.” Lip said as he clapped Ian on the back, dropping Ian off at the entrance of the hospital. “Hey, hey Mickey. Hold back for a sec. Don’t…don’t be alarmed if he freaks out…he hates talking about shit…just…don’t fuck it up, okay?” Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, ok”. Before Mickey could get out of the car, Lip called him back again. ‘And..uh..thanks. Y’know. For everything. We haven’t always gotten along real well, but I really appreciate what you’re doing for Ian. Now get outta here, go take care of my baby brother”. And with that, Lip was gone.

   “Hold my hand, fucktard”. Mickey said, jogging to catch up with Ian, who bit his lip to stop it from trembling. “Fuck Ian, your hands are freezing…” Mickey said, truly observing Ian’s face, just as Ian had done so many years ago. “Don’t be so nervous, Gallagher…so it’s a shitty situation, we’ll be alright. When is it not a shitty situation between us? Whatever that Emanuel dude did to you, I’ll deal with. I’d deal with all your stupid shit, because _I love you._ So don’t worry your fucking ginger head over it”. Ian looked up at Mickey, that fucking broken look in his eyes that made Mickey worry. “Ok…I’m just worried that you’ll hunt the dude down and kill a bitch”. “No fucking promises there, firecrotch.”

   “Ian Gallagher, Mrs. Petrou will see you and your partner now”. Ian took a deep breath before taking Mickey’s hand, as they walked into the tiny room in front of them.

   “Hi Ian. I’m Jennette, I’ll be your therapist for todays session, and for any sessions you choose to take in the future. Who’s this?” She asked, gesturing towards Mickey. “Um…this is my..err..” “I’m his…life…partner.” Mickey said, and _oh wow he completely fucked that one up_. Jennette simply chuckled. “You two fuck, but you also cuddle and do cute shit. Got it.”

   “So, Ian, Fiona Gallagher your sister?” “Yes, yea she is”. Jennette smiled at the obviously-nervous redhead. “She told me that during your..period of absence…you were sexually attacked, correct?” Ian paled, before stammering “um..er..yes..b-but it was my faul-“ “Ian,” Jennette interrupted. “It wasn’t your fault. This didn’t happen because of anything you did wrong, or how you dressed, or where you were. It happened because a very sick and angry person made a terrible decision to do this to someone. I am very sorry that it happened to you. You don’t deserve it, and it’s not your fault. You need to get the entire ‘blame’ issue out of your head before we begin, okay?” Ian nodded solemnly, biting his nails. Mickey gently pulled his hand away and slipped it into his own.

   “Okay, so in order to determine what kind of therapy would be appropriate for you, I’ll need to ask you some questions. If you don’t want to answer one of them, you can say pass, and there will be no questions asked. However, the more questions you answer _truthfully,_ the greater the chance for a speedy recovery.” Ian nodded, gripping onto Mickeys hand. “Do you have elevated fear or anxiety of specific objects or settings because of the assault?” “Yes” “Are you trying to block out all the memories from the assault?” Ian hesitated. “Not…not really. I’m more trying to fix..what happened.” Jennette made a small sound of interest before jotting something down on her clipboard. “Do you, personally think that you are displaying any signs of PTSD or depression?” “No” came Ian’s answer, strong and confident. Now, Jennette turned towards Mickey. “And you? What do you think? Has Ian been displaying signs of PTSD or depression?” “No.” Jennette smiled at this. “Ok, last question. Ian, do you feel an urge to talk to other survivors of sexual assault?” Ian gave a little laugh at that. “Hell no, I’m not paying to have one gigantic pity party.” Mickey coughed, trying and failing to conceal his laugh.

   “Ian, can I ask you to step out of the room for a second? I’d like to speak to Mickey alone.” After Ian left, Mickeys hand felt unnaturally cold. “Mickey, what has the rape changed the most about Ian? Like, some things he now does or doesn’t do, thanks to the rape.” “Well…he’s scared of the randomest shit now. Like, just last week, he freaked out about getting into a taxi, because Mr, Emanuel, the biggest dick around town, gagged him in the back of one.” Jennette’s eyebrows shot up. “Shit. You’ve just made my job insanely easy.”

   “Alright, Ian. I think you’re dealing with this very well. Some of the rape victims that I see need various types of therapy. In your case, I’ve assigned you to only one type, which is called stress inoculation therapy. Basically, what I’m getting from both you and Mickey is that although the rape doesn’t generally consume your thoughts, certain things can be extremely triggering, or remind you of what happened.” Ian nodded. “Stress inoculation therapy, or SIT is designed to help with that. Give me an example of something you would prefer to avoid, something that you connect with what happened.” Ian gulped. “Confined spaces, for sure.”

   Jennette smiled. “The majority of rape victims we get in here say that. The first step towards recovery (and Mickey couldn’t help but chuckle at this, because _thats corny as hell_ ) is talking to someone about _exactly_ what happened. Upon seeing Ian hesitate, she said “I know it seems scary, and I know you’re feeling as if it won’t even help, but think of it this way. All the fear and stress inside of you, you keep in a bottle. Everytime you talk to someone about what happened, you’re letting go of a little bit of all those bad emotions inside of you. Ian, do you know exactly why Mr Emanuel did what he did?” Ian gulped, and took a deep breath before proceeding. “Yes. Um. I…I used to work at Fairytale, in Boystown. The - the guy, he’d always show up, and try to…like…pay me to get in bed with him? But I’d always explain to him that I was a stripper, and not a hooker. I had a no touching policy and everything. So anyways, I guess he saw me walking alone, in the dark, and he just…took the opportunity. Although, it never felt like he was horny or anything, it was more like he was using the sex to…to punish me, or to get back at me for not wanting to do it numerous times before.” “You’re absolutely right, Ian. Most of the time, rapists use sex as a power tool, just as a robber would use a gun. The sex is _never_ the real motive in the equation.”

   “Talk to me about the whole confined space issue.” “Ok..well..like…whenever he’d…make me…do it, with him, it was always somewhere small. The bathroom, some narrow alley, his elevator..” Mickey interrupted. “Hold the fuck up. The man had an elevator? Was this north side?” Jennette answered for him. “Mickey, this is the mayor we're talking about, remember?” Mickey froze, his grip on Ian becoming impossibly tighter. “right”. Jennette simply chuckled before continuing. “Ian, to get rid of any fear, any fear at all, the key is to replace the bad memories with good ones. For example, if you have a fear of confined spaces, I would start off in a large room, with multiple windows, very airy, and than slowly work your way down to maybe a bathroom or a basement. Try to face your fear whenever possible. Does that sound doable?” Ian looked thoughtfully out the window. “Mhmm…but could…could I do all this with Mickey with me?” Jennette smiled, and said “I’ll let Mickey answer that one.” They both turned towards Mickey expectantly, who grabbed Ian’s face, saying “Bitch, if you think I’m _letting_ you do any of this shit alone, you’re crazier than i thought you were.”

   Before leaving the therapists office, both boys shook hands with Jennette. “Can we use the whole working your way down strategy for all of his fears?” Mickey asked. “Yes, the method I showed you is used universally. And if you find that that method doesn’t work, come back anytime and we can discuss alternate methods. Good luck boys” she said, as she turned and walked down the hall.

   “Confined spaces, huh?” Ian blushed, looking down at the ground. “Yeah, it’s kinda dumb” Mickeys eyebrows pulled together, as his index finger tipped Ian’s head back up, allowing him to look Mickey in the eye. “I didn’t mean it like that, babe. I know this whole thing was rough on you. I know. But We’ll take all these stupid fears one at a time, okay? we’ll be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the method described here is how I got taught SIT, but I was never raped, so my apologies if the method described is incorrect.


	4. R E D W I N E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who did that to you? Who fucked you up so bad, emotionally and mentally, that you've completely shut down anyone who tries to help you? You don't talk about your feelings, you push kind people away and you let negative people in. You refuse to open up and let someone love or care about you. But none of that is your fault, so don't even fucking try to blame it on yourself."

   Mickey finds out on a Tuesday, and it turns out to be one of the worst Tuesday’s he’s ever lived to see, which is a lot, coming from Terry Milkovich’s gay son. His brothers were out on some sort of drug run, Mandy was working the late shift, and none of the Gallaghers were checking in on Ian anytime soon.

   “You wanna pop a movie in, or are you just gonna stand there being an adorable little housewife all night?” Mickey teased, walking down the stairs and wrapping his arm around the taller boy, who was washing the dishes. Mickey could quite literally feel Ian smiling, as he slowly turned around so that they could face each other. “Only if we can watch The Lion King, I fucking _love_ The Lion King.” Mickey groaned, a smile threatening to escape. “Jesus, Gallagher, how gay do you want us to be?” And when Ian laughed, Mickey decided he’d re-watch the Lion King 10 times if he got to see Ian smile like that again. “You need to stop saying things are ‘too gay’, Mick. You _are_ gay”.

   So of course they ended up watching The Lion King, using the window seat as an opportunity to sit as close as humanely possible. Halfway through, Mickey got up for some beer, only to find a bottle of red wine, with a note saying _‘take care of him properly before you get on him :)’_ “fucking Mandy” Mickey grumbled to himself before pouring the wine into 2 glasses. “We’re out of beer, man. Mandy got us some fucking red wine, though. Here.” Mickey said, as he handed Ian the glass.

   Ian suddenly paled, scrambling to get off of the window seat. “I-if you’re gonna drink that, do-don’t come near me”, he said, trembling so much that his knees were knocking together. Mickey immediately reached for the remote, pausing the movie, and put both glasses down on a nearby coffee table, before reaching out for Ian, who had his eyes closed with tears streaming down his face, clearly reliving some horrible memory. When he tried to reach out towards Ian, to wrap his arounds around the ginger, to kiss him deeply on the mouth, to fucking do _anything_ that would stop the tears, Ian recoiled. So Mickey thought back to everything that was in the pamphlets about rape victims that the therapist had given him. He remembered reading about the woman who’d push everyone away when the memories ran their course, consuming her entire body. He remembered how the woman said that all she really needed was a strong pair of arms squeezing her tight, making her forget, but instead, she’d push everyone away. And everyone would oblige. So despite Ian’s weak protests, Mickey threw his arms around the younger boys waist, and pulled them both onto the window seat.

   “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, I can’t do this right now…I can’t…please…just…go. It’ll hurt less if you just leave now, okay? I’m sorry I’m so fucked up. I never wanted any of this. I promise. I love you so much. Just…please…go.” Mickey felt his heart shatter, and he started to cry. “Ian…Ian I would _never_ leave you. Mandy would have my ass” he said with a weak chuckle, before the tears started falling once again. “I’m serious, Ian. I am so in love with you. I’d never let you deal with this shit on your own. Can you…can you just explain to me, whats going on?” Ian sighed, before wiping his eyes. “Well…when I was with…I was…with…” “yea babe, I know. I know who you’re talking about, keep going.” “When I was with him, sometimes…sometimes he’d leave. Just for a while. I’d try…I would, Mick. but that guy, our fucking _mayor_ , the guy with an elevator and indoor pool and shit like that…he had no fucking windows. Anyways, when he came back…he’d smell like wine. It was…it was always super pungent. Like…the kind of smell you couldn’t escape if you tried. I eventually caught on to the fact that if he smelt like that…it’d be even worse. It fucked with him really really badly. He wouldn’t even give me any warning, he’d just…force his dick into my ass. I could _feel_ something…like… _rip_ inside of me. So, when I smelt it again…I couldn’t help but remember.”

   Mickey was cradling Ian’s head in his lap now, the younger boy emotionally exhausted. Mickey spoke up first. “I really, _really_ wish that I could just put the fucking wine away, and stay like this, but remember what Jennette said? She said that whenever i found out about one of your fears, we had to fix it. Okay?” Ian nodded. “What do you want me to do, Ian? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” Ian sat there, thinking thoughtfully for a while. “She said to replace the bad memories with better ones” Ian muttered, biting his nail. Mickey’s eyes softened. “How about this: I’ll drink this fucker, and then I’ll kiss you. Can you do that?”

   So Mickeys lips were on Ian’s. And sure, Ian’s lips were trembling like crazy, and tears were streaming down his face, but he wasn’t pulling back. Mickey could tell that he was trying so so hard. Afterwards, Mickey grinned at Ian, who attempted a shaky smile back. “I’m so proud of you, babe.”

   Later that night, when Mickey and Ian were curled up together in bed, Ian said “Why would he do that? And why the hell is it affecting me so much?” He was almost asleep when Mickey spoke. “I can’t believe he did that to you. He’s fucked you up so badly, emotionally and mentally, and all you can do is say that you’re fine, because you’re a selfless sweetheart who doesn’t want to be a bother. He played with your brain. He made you think that you were worthless, and he tried to shut you down completely. He tried to make you refuse to open up and let someone love and care about you. I don’t know why he did it, Ian. But I do know that its completely normal to be affected by it, so shut up and sleep. I’ll take any shit that comes your way, Ian. I’ll put up with _anything_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cried, man, I cried. idk about you.


	5. I T C H Y S W E A T E R S

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I would never laugh at any of your fears, simply because they are yours."

   “Why is it so fucking _cold_ all the time?” mumbled Mickey, as he walked down the stairs, arms shivering and teeth chattering from the cold. Moving as quickly as he could, he grabbed one of Iggy’s sweaters off of the back of a chair and threw on his jacket, braving the cold and wind and who knows what else, to buy _milk_ , of all things. “Fucking Gallagher” he muttered as he quietly closed the door behind him.

   “ _Mickey_? Didn’t know you consumed anything but beer and pizza bagels.” Instinctively, Mickey whipped around, ready to fight, only to be faced by Kev and the twins. “Jesus Kev, warn a man next time. You know where the milk is?” “you’re into milk?” Mickey snorted and proceeded in the direction Kev had pointed to. “Nah man, fucking Ian.” Kev let out a small grunt of understanding. “How’s he doing, by the way?” Mickey sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Getting better. I gotta get home. See you around”.

   “Here’s your fucking milk, Cinderella” Mickey proclaimed, walking in to Ian cooking bacon on the stove. Upon seeing the older boy, Ian grinned. “Thanks Mick, just pop it in the fridge. Why you still wearing your jacket?” “Because its fucking _cold_ , Ian. But you wouldn’t know, because you forced your boyfriend to go get shit done for you”. Mickey said with a smile as he stood on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Ian’s cheek. “We’re boyfriend and girlfriend now, huh?” “Shut the fuck up Gallagher. You better be making omelettes too.”

   Ian and Mickey never ate at the table. Sure, when Mandy was home, or if the Gallaghers were over, they’d all sit together like the fucking Von Trapps, but when it was just the 2 of them, they preferred to migrate to the couch. “thank fuck, I can feel my arms again” Mickey said peeling off his jacket. Hearing Ian chuckle, he went to wrap his arms around the younger boy before feeling Ian stiffen. Ian wriggled out of Mickeys grip and slid over to the far end of the sofa, elbows perched on his bony knees, head in his hands, slowly breathing in and out. “Ian? You okay?” Mickey said, cautiously inching closer. “Yeah…just…just…give me your arm”. Cocking an eyebrow, Mickey handed his forearm over to Ian who rubbed at it, vigorously at first, his movements gradually slowing down along with his breathing, until he was only gently stroking the material there. Slowly, Ian opened his eyes, as the colour began to return to his face. “Okay…okay I’m good. I’m getting better at this.”

   After a quick outfit change, Mickey plopped down on the sofa next to Ian, eating his now-cold omelette. Seeing him slightly grimace as the cold food hit his stomach, Ian looked down guiltily at the ground. “I’m really sorry. I could microwave it for you, if that’d be better?” and Mickey couldn’t help but smile because his boyfriend was a selfless, do-everything-for-others-nothing-for-himself angel who managed to care for others while recovering from his own panic attacks. “Its ok. I like ‘em cold. Wanna talk about what just happened?” “It…it was just the material…that rough, canvas shit. It’s something he used a lot. As handcuffs or as a gag or some other shit like that. When…when i felt it again, especially on you…it was scary, at first. But…um…I think I managed to recover from it relatively well? Like…I’m not normal or anything, but I think…I think that was the fastest recovery time yet, so…please don’t…like be mad. Its stupid but just-“ Mickey pressed his lips to Ian’s (‘just to shut him up’, he told himself.)

   Pulling back, Mickey kept both hands where they were, on either side of Ian’s face. “Ian. I would never be mad about your fears, no matter how irrational they are, because they’re _yours_. I don’t completely get it, but I don’t have to get it to be able to help you. And I think you recovered from that one _fantastically_ , I’m so proud of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully you get the message that Ian is slowly getting better, requiring less and less encouragement from Mickey :) also, did that promo for 5x05 KILL anyone else?! I'm so worried for the both of them, so I'm drowning myself in fan fiction to give myself a false sense of security idk bout you. Wrote this in an hour so sorry if it sucks ass :((((


	6. H I M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this time, Mickey saw something different. The same fear was still there, but there was something else too.

   Slowly, surely, and with Mickey’s help, Ian was getting better. He could breathe deeper, his thoughts finally cleared and his green eyes brightened. So when Kev declared a New Years party to be hosted at the Alibi, Mickey thought _“he’ll be fine, he’s doing better, nothing could ever happen, Ian’s been to the Alibi hundreds of times.”_

   And for a while, it _was_ fine. No one had gotten drunk yet, although no one could be considered ‘sober’ either. Vee was at the bar, mixing up a storm, various games of pool had begun and Kev had hired some shitty high school band to play. Sat at the bar stool with some of the regulars (excluding Frank, thank fuck) Mickey allowed himself to just breathe. Just for one second, he let his guard down, sauntering up to his boyfriend, who was winning everyone over with his gorgeous smile. Mickey’s face broke out into a big-ass grin, because _the owner of that fucking grin was his. No one else’s_. Regardless of who was watching, he gripped Ian’s bicep and pulled him down, attaching their lips together. “Hey Mick”, he said once they broke apart. “Hey yourself. What the hell are you doing?” “Trying to convince Kev to admit that he sucks ass at pool.” Upon hearing this, Mickey turned round to Kev, who looked shocked. “Fuck you Ian, I’m great at pool!” The crowd that had gathered seemed to chuckle disbelievingly in unison. “Nah man, Ian’s got a point there. You do suck ass.” “Fuck you, you’re only saying that because Ian’s your boyfriend and you don’t want to cause damage to his inflated, fragile ego”. Although the words were meant to be harsh, they were delivered with no bite in them whatsoever, because everyone was so fucking glad that Ian was ok.

   “M-mick…meet me in the bathroom, he’s fucking _here_ and I’ve got about 10 seconds before I freak the fuck out”. Mickey recognized the soft whisper tickling his ear immediately. He turned to look at Ian, noticing how his breathes came out ragged and harsh, how his emerald eyes became a stony grey. “Ok, ok, lock yourself in a stall, I’ll be there in just a sec, I’m going to tell Kev or Vee to keep an eye on the bathroom, alright?”

   “Vee, don’t fucking let _anyone_ into the bathroom, I’m fucking serious.” Vee handed some douche his Alabama Slammer before looking over at Mickey. “Whats wrong?” “I’m not sure, but Ian is freaked the fuck out, someones here that’s out to get him or something. I don’t know, he didn’t explain, but he’s locked in a stall. Don’t let anyone in that bathroom, have them piss outside, for all I care.”

   “…Ian? It’s Mickey, you alright?” Hearing a lock unclick, he quickly scurried over to where Ian was, squishing himself into the tiny stall. “Who the hell is it, Ian? Fucking Frank, or some shit like that?” And when Ian looked over, Mickey saw something different in Ian’s eyes. The same fear he’d seen 4 times in the past month was still there, clouding over his eyes, but there was something else there too, something Mickey could only describe as controlled fear. And so Mickey knew they’d be okay, because at this point he could read Ian like a book. “Its _him_ , Mickey. They said he was under house arrest, they said…they said I’d be safe…but he’s back…and I have no idea what the hell he’s going to do”. And just like that, Mickey’s worst fear had become reality. Ian had just started to recover, and now this fucker was back. But there was no way in hell Mickey would hand Ian over without a fight, because he couldnt bear to think about what would become of the sweet ginger if he was left alone with the man who ripped and shoved and stole from Ian once before. “I would _never_ let him do anything to you, Ian. I swear. But we have to get out of here, and we have to call the cops on his ass. Can you handle that?” Ian gulped. “yeah.” Mickey pulled him in for a deep kiss. “I’m so proud of you, you’ll be fine. I’m never letting you go again.”

   Mickey walked out, tightly holding Ian’s hand, and walked up to Kev and Vee, who were talking quietly by the bathroom entrance. Seeing them come out, they practically jumped over to them. Kev spoke first. “Ian…he’s here…I swear to god its him.” Mickey sighed in exasperation. “I know, I know…I’m leaving Ian with you, make sure he’s safe, don’t let the fucker anywhere near him. I’m calling the cops.”

   Just minutes later, the police arrived, dragging the man away, and Mickey could swear that sirens and commotion had never sounded so inviting because it meant that _Ian was safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeeeeep this story is almost over! Thanks to all the readers that have stuck with me so far. Happy ending, i promise xx


	7. E P I L O G U E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> freckles lit up his face like stars

   With fucking Scrotum Blender or whatever the hell his name was in jail - for good this time - Ian was finally safe. For the first time in what felt like years, both boys slept past the 3:00am mark, survived on less than 2 packs of cigarettes a day and significantly sighed less.

   “You know, I never got to say thanks.” Ian said one day as they sat on their window seat. Mickey snorted. “The fuck for?” he said, before untangling his arm from around Ian’s broad shoulders to take a swig of beer. “Just…for putting up with my dramatic life. I mean really, raped by the _mayor?_ How much more cliché could it get?” Mickey lazily turned his head around to stare at Ian, and for just a second he completely forgot to respond because _fuck, Ian was gorgeous_. What looked like millions and millions of tiny red freckles dotted his porcelain skin, lighting him up like stars on a clear night. His eyes, everyone assumed, were green, but Mickey had a certain pride in being the only one who knew that his eyes changed colour with the sun - sometimes fading to a dull grey, sometimes becoming a cerulean blue. Slowly, Mickey smiled. “Nah man, I stuck around and dealt with all your shit because I love you, and you don’t have to thank me for that”. “Okay. I really do though. _I’m so lucky.”_

_Hey, those days are long gone, but when I hear that song, it takes me back.  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh im so unhappy with this summary, like its so rushed but i honestly just wanted to finish this story, so sorry if it sucks ass :/ thanks to the readers who've stuck with me through all 7 chapters, ilysm xx oh by the way, the quote at the end of this is from '17' by Avril, my queen.


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